


No Glory In Death

by matanee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-09 16:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matanee/pseuds/matanee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You know, I lied about glory and honour," Jon said slowly and held the haft of his sword a bit stronger. "There is no glory in death. It's only blood and pain and, if we're lucky, we will die before they could make us dance, using our guts as strings."</i>
</p><p>The White Walkers attack the defenseless Wall, and destruction seems inevitable. However, no one expects a young southerner girl to change everything and everyone - including Jon Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, Game of Thrones and ASOIAF belong to their rightful owners and creators. I would love to thank Christine for being the most amazing beta in the world, I owe her my life for this. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon Snow is willing to give his life for everyone else, but a generous someone gives it back to him.

One horn blast: stand and wait, ranger is returning.

Two horn blasts: Wildlings are coming.

Three horn blasts: you better start praying.

Or running.

Jon Snow never was the one to run. Not even in the middle of the night when he was woken by the first blast, then the second, and then the final third. By the second blast, he was out of bed, running out the door. But at the third, he froze in place. The yelling of the men and the barking of Ghost seemed distant and, for a second, he felt sick to his stomach.

The White Walkers. Scary stories in old books, fears of old women, and things to frighten children enough that they wouldn't want to stay out in the woods until midnight. They've never been more than that to Jon Snow.

And now, they were coming. Nightmares tearing the thin fabric that separates reality from fiction. They are coming through it, in front of his eyes.

No one would play with the horn blasts - no one would try and make a bad joke. It had to be true. However, in spite of coming to terms with the truth, the only thing that could shake Jon out of his thoughts was the desperate face of Samwell, only inches from his own.

"Jon, there were three blasts! What should we do?"

Jon felt like he was suddenly woken from a dream. Everything felt disturbingly cold and real at once and the frightened sounds of the men on the Wall filled his skull again.

He had to realize he wasn't dreaming. He was only afraid, like he's never been in his entire life so far.

"Send ravens," Jon looked at Sam, Jon looked at Sam, blurry behind his plans and the moment's urgency. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder, trying to make him feel a bit better. He doubted it could ever work with Sam. "To Last Hearth, Karhold, and Winterfell. And to King's Landing. They have to know. It's our only chance."

"But Jon-"

"Now!"

Sam didn't ask more questions. He trusted Jon with his life and so did the thirty other young men at the very moment they saw the bastard stepping out of the elevator. They were all standing on the edge of the Wall, trying to make out anything in the strong wind and snow. It was faint, but they were visible and one long look was enough for Jon Snow to swallow hard.

There was no way thirty men could hold back the army of the undead.

He turned around slowly, summing up the situation. They had... what, roughly 20 minutes before the army would reach the Wall? It was barely enough for anything. Would it be better to run? To try to hold the Wall? Or to wait for help that might never come?

None of these options were good enough. But what was good enough, then?

Thirty expectant pairs of eyes, that's what he had to face when he turned around and suddenly his tongue just felt too thick in his mouth, like he was about to choke. He could barely hear his own thoughts beneath his hammering heartbeat. These men were waiting for him to say they stood a chance, that they had enough in them to win, that they will see the daylight tomorrow.

He had to lie. He had no choice.

"My brothers!" His voice cracked so he quickly coughed to clear his throat before continuing. "I remember when I came here, I saw no glory in being on the Night's Watch. I remember everyone telling me how honourable this position is, but all I wanted was to become a Ranger and cut the throats of Wildlings beyond the Wall. To prove I was not worthless, in spite of my name, Snow.

"By the time I took my vow, it had all changed. We all say the same things: ‘night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come!’"

He was yelling by the end of the vow, and he could feel the rush of blood in his head, the heat radiating from his body despite the snowstorm raging around them. This heat, this hot feeling washing over him: it was fear, fear of death, leaving him as he spoke.

"Yes, we would never have wives and never have children! Yes, we will wear no crowns and we will drink from no fancy cups, we will keep no lovers in our beds and we won't have thousands of people under our command! But, we can have glory! We can fight with honour because we are the watchers on the Wall, we are the owners of the night, and we are the defenders of Westeros! And if we shall die at our posts tonight, then so be it! I shall die with honour and so will you because we won't run and we won't be marked as cowards on the pages of history! We will be history!"

He has never thought thirty men could sound like an army of a hundred thousand men, but once the last word left his mouth, all his mates raised their swords and let out their voices.

If they had to die, they didn't have to die afraid.

"We will need fire! We can decimate them with arrows. We will also need linseed-oil! And rocks! We don't have much time; we have to hurry!"

Most of the men spread to collect what Jon asked for. However, Grenn and Edd stayed back and watched him. They knew Jon too well and could not be tricked. The three of them had been together long enough that they knew when Jon was afraid and recognized it easily.

They didn't say a word just watched as their friend closed the distance between them.

"I will need you to come with me," Jon started quietly. Grenn furrowed his brows.

"Where?"

"Down. Someone will have to guard the entrance."

"There is no fucking way I'm going down there," Edd stated incredulously and he shook his head. "If I wanted to die, I would just throw myself over the edge!"

"And who do you think will take this responsibility?" Jon's eyes flashed with anger. "We will die anyway! At least we can say we did our best!"

"If we're dead, we won't say anything, Jon! We will be dead and it will be painful as hell!" Edd yelled with exasperation. "Or worse: we will be like those walking corpses! We would kill our own mothers, if we became that!"

"What do you want then? Break your vow and be a deserter? Keep running in your whole life with the guilt that we let Westeros fall? It's better if we die and never see our mothers without their heads or limbs!"

Jon has never felt so desperate in his life before. It wasn't just fear anymore, but the realization that Westeros would fall, no matter how hard they fought against it. There was not enough fire in the Seven Kingdoms that could kill so many White Walkers. Only a miracle could save them now. And as he walked past the freshly arrived Samwell, he murmured a silent prayer to the Old Gods. He hoped they would look upon him right now.

He was surprised by the pride he felt when the men collected everything he asked for. They had enough linseed-oil to hold the Wall for a while and they could also bring heavy rocks, arrows and torches to work with. He remembered there was a catapult in The Shadow Tower - Jon didn't have to say a word, his men knew the command: set the rocks on fire and let them fly.

Because yes, tonight, they were his men and they were all one for the Wall.

His room seemed strange and unfamiliar as he stepped in. He found his important belongings in no time: his heavy cloak, the belt with Jorah Mormont's sword on it, and a knife he got from Robb back in Winterfell years ago. He needed it - if he dies, he will die with it.

Jon was ready to leave his room, when he faced his last responsibility - the last thing he had to care about.

Ghost.

The wolf was standing at the door of his chambers and looked at him curiously, as he always did. Jon's heart wrenched and he let out a desperate sigh with a sad half-smile on his face. He slowly descended to the wolf’s level and grabbed his head, pulling it close to him.

"You have to stay here, understood?" Ghost made a dissatisfied yowl, but Jon kept him close for a few more seconds. "You can't follow me here, old friend. I might be selfish, but I just can't see you die or become a monster like those out there."

Jon slowly scratched Ghost's ears, as the wolf rubbed his nose to the side of Jon's face, and the ranger's stomach felt so small by now that he had to stand up and take a few steps back before he could change his mind. Many tales talked about the animals that fell prey to the White Walkers. Only they could command those monsters, no one else. Ghost was too dear to see him end up like that.

"Stay."

It was his last word before he walked out of the room and locked the door, with Ghost behind it.

He saw a couple of men running around, bringing more wood, straw, and rocks with them, but he could hear the roaring of the White Walkers by now and  had no more time to lose. It was now or never.

As he walked, his cloak and sword grew heavier and heavier like a current dragging him down. The noises from beyond the Wall became louder as he reached the entrance, but when he grabbed a torch and turned around the corner, he forgot his nervousness.

Edd and Grenn were standing there already, with torches in hand and swords at their sides; Grenn even held a bow. He shot a small smile at Jon as he came closer.

"I guess you were right anyway, Snow," Edd shrugged and Jon couldn't help but look at him with amusement. "If we die, let's die with honour."

Jon Snow stared for a moment, not quite believing that he wouldn’t die alone after all, but then he turned and nodded to the men handling the winch. They looked at each other with doubt before swallowing hard and lifting the heavy iron gate. Jon let out a shaky breath, as he watched the wild snowflakes breaking through the growing gap. It was like nothing he had experienced before. Knowing he will surely be dead in an hour.

"I brought the bow and arrow for the signal. The others will start the attack from the top, once I send this into the air," Grenn explained, fear evident in his voice. Jon started to see himself as a really screwed up person. Was it really about honour? Was it about Westeros? Or was it about Jon being too afraid to die alone?

He couldn't answer that. But he had a feeling.

"As soon as we're on the other side, close the door. Build a barricade, and someone keep sending ravens until there is none left," Jon pulled out his sword and took a deep breath, as he began to see the first silhouettes of the White Walkers in the distance. "And never stop praying."

They walked with steady steps and Jon ignored the returning dread right until the door closed behind them and hundreds of blue eyes stared through the curtain-like snow in the air. No one moved, not even the White Walkers. And, Jon could see from the corner of his eye how the bow shook in Grenn's hands.

"You know, I lied about glory and honour," Jon said slowly and held the haft of his sword a bit stronger. "There is no glory in death. It's only blood and pain and, if we're lucky, we will die before they could make us dance, using our guts as strings."

"It was a nice speech, though." Edd swallowed hard and Grenn carefully directed the tip of the arrow to the torch. It was a nice ray of light until it disappeared in the heights of snow and, before all hell could break loose, Edd added. "If we won't, at least they will die as heroes up there."

Jon Snow didn't last two minutes in the pelting fire and flurry of undead swords. The sudden heat swept him off his feet and he lost consciousness before he could say “I yield.”

********  
  


He dreamt of the South.

He'd never been anywhere near the real South, across the Narrow Sea, where summer would last a hundred years and winter would never come, but he dreamt of it and, on his skin, he felt it. The sun was warm, the sand felt good against his fingertips, and he didn't have to wear that heavy, wet cloak anymore. He could lie naked on the sand, feeling safe, content even.

He didn't need anything. He wanted to stay there forever, to fall in love with it, to live a life there and never think of Westeros or the Wall again.

And then, he woke up.

It sounded like a thunder, the noise that woke him up. At first instinct he wanted to jump out of bed and reach for his sword - maybe it was another horn blast. Maybe it was all just a dream that was coming true right now. Maybe the White Walkers were coming now. Maybe he could remember if they win or lose this time.

But no, it was no thunder, and there were no horn blasts. Not even one, let alone three.

It still could have been a dream, though. An extremely real dream. That's why he hurt everywhere, even places he didn't know he had.

"Jon!"

The amount of relief in the familiar voice was upright surprising and as Jon turned his head to the direction of the sound, he was faced with an utterly happy looking Samwell. Typical.

"What happened?" Jon asked hoarsely. He tried to sit up, but Sam pushed him back quickly.

"Don't force it, Lord Snow. You were badly injured. If it hadn't been for that dragon, you would be dead by now."

Sam stood to fetch some water in a flask, but Jon was too confused to accept any form of liquid at the moment, even though his whole body was screaming for a drink.

"Did you hit your head?" he stared at Sam questioningly and despite the warnings of being physically hurt, he managed at sitting up and with a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes for a second, waiting for the sharp pain to pass.

"Not me," Sam looked at him defensively. "But you... We thought you were dead, but the Khaleesi didn't leave you there, amongst the burning bodies of the White Walkers."

"Wait, so it wasn't a dream?" Jon raised his eyebrows, totally missing the point of the sentence.

"Jon Snow, you have to drink and stay in bed, maybe your memories will come back as you recover," Sam pushed the flask into Jon's hands, but the ranger dropped it to the bed with irritation.

"Just tell me what happened, Sam!"

"Alright, gods, you are one angry man after waking up," Sam rolled his eyes and sat down on the chair next to Jon's bed. After a few moments of adjustment, Jon finally realized he was in his own room. It was good to know; at least the Castle stayed in one piece. Or, this part of it did. "I'm sure you remember the White Walkers coming and you giving out orders."

"Yes, you can skip that part," Jon answered impatiently and couldn't believe Sam was alive at all. He was happy about it, but it was truly a wonder, everyone had to see that.

"So, you, Grenn and Edd went beyond the wall to guard the entrance, which I have to note, was very brave of you. No one would've wanted to-"

"Sam," Jon sounded more threatening now, so Sam just cleared his throat and continued.

"You were out there fighting, you gave the signal, and everyone started to shoot arrows and they used the catapult to throw rocks and everything, but it was hard to see from up there and they were everywhere and it was impossible to hold the Wall for any longer. And when the others started to think about going down and setting the whole place on fire..."

"What?" Jon stared at him in disbelief at the last part of the story but Sam just shrugged and waved.

"Three dragons appeared on the sky, Jon. Three. Dragons," Sam looked pretty excited now, but all Jon could do was just sit there with a half opened mouth and stare at his friend without a sound. "They breathed fire and they killed all of the White Walkers, Jon! We thought they might kill us too but they didn't do any harm to us! They only killed the White Walkers and they saved us and when we went down to open the entrance, all the three of you were lying in the snow, bloody and slightly burnt and then Khaleesi told her men to take you to-"

"Hold on," Jon raised his hand suddenly. "Who is Khaleesi?"

"Gods, Jon, you have to meet her!" Sam stood up violently, making the whole room shake but Jon didn't seem less frustrated or confused. "You will wish you were born as her brother so you could've seen her every day. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Jon."

"Who is she?" The ranger's voice was really harsh now, killing every ounce of Sam's excitement, so he just sat down again with his lower lip trembling and avoided Jon's look for a few moments.

"She didn't really say. All I know is that her people call her Khaleesi, and she came from the South. Grenn says she crossed the Narrow Sea and she rides her dragons."

The look on Sam's face softened Jon's heart a little bit, so he just sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Even raising his arm hurt, but he couldn't show any of it. It wasn't a luxury he could afford.

"Grenn and Edd are alive?"

"Yes," Sam raised his head and smiled slowly at Jon. "You had the worst injuries. You were unconscious for two days."

"Has anyone died?" Deep inside, Jon knew he probably didn't want to hear the answer, but he was truly relieved when Sam shook his head.

"I know, it's a miracle."

'Miracle, huh?' Jon thought to himself as he gathered the strength to smile back at Sam, before letting the bed swallow him a bit more. 'Just what I prayed for.'

He didn't need much to fall asleep shortly after the conversation with Sam. He didn't dream of the South this time, but he was glad the only one in his room when he woke up was Ghost, right next to him on his bed. The wolf was more than happy to see his owner safe and sound and even licked his face a couple of times before Jon ordered him to lie down, laughing. That’s probably why he didn't hear the knock on the door, but he grew cautious soon enough. He was reaching for his sword at the moment the door of his chambers opened.

It was in the middle of the night and the hall behind his door was dark, so Jon couldn't see his visitor at first. He found it strange that Ghost was more excited than suspicious as the door opened wider. At first the ranger only saw a long white dress, then milk blonde hair, and finally, the prettiest face he'd seen in his entire life.

Somewhere within his soul, he could understand Sam's behaviour now.

It was only a girl. Young, beautiful, and didn't seem too frightened of the sword pointed at her. Actually, Jon absolutely forgot about the sword, and when the girl carefully closed the door behind her, the ranger put his weapon back to its place and pushed himself up in the bed.

"I am pleased to see you awake, Ser Jon."

Oh in the name of all the Gods, why did she sound so sweet, even after one sentence? Jon felt like a green boy, and for a moment he had no idea how to respond to that, before he collected himself.

"I am no Ser, my Lady."

"And I am no Lady, I'm afraid," she smiled and laced her fingers in front of her thighs as she stood in the middle of the room, never removing her eyes from Jon Snow. "Do you know who I am, Lord Snow?"

"I won't lie to you. I do not," the ranger shook his head.

"I have many names," she looked at the floor for a second with an enigmatic smile. "Which one would you like to know?"

"I already know of one." He tasted the word on his tongue for a bit before he spoke. "Khaleesi."

"News spreads fast, doesn’t it?" The girl locked glances with him again and when she noticed the chair next to the bed, she walked over and sat down. From this distance, she looked even more perfect, but he tried with everything he had to not make it obvious how much he fancied her already. She is some noble girl anyway, he had nothing to do with her except to thank her for the help. Of course, Jon Snow couldn't help it. He never could.

"My men say you came from the South," he said. "That you crossed the Narrow Sea."

"Your men? You are the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"

She was smart, not only beautiful. Jon liked her more and more with every second, and her beautiful half-smile just helped him in that.

"I am no better than anyone else, so no, I am not Lord Commander. I liked to think I might be one day, but that is not in my interest anymore," Jon shook his head. "I just gave them orders on how to fight for their survival."

"You risked your life for theirs in the front line," she leaned down and Jon had to be very careful to keep his eyes on hers. He was tempted to look at her lips and her perfect hair that he wanted to touch so badly, that he thought might feel like caressing silk. But, he was mesmerized by those purple eyes and felt like he was consumed in his entire body. "A man who doesn't believe he is more worthy of a glorious death than the others wouldn't do such a thing."

"There is no glory in death." He remembered himself saying that right before he lost consciousness. "It's nasty."

"Believe me, I know." A small, sad light flashed in her eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared.

"You look too young to say that."

"I am no child, Lord Snow," she leaned even closer, and Jon had to grab the bed-sheet under the blanket to force himself to keep the eye contact. She wasn't smiling anymore, but despite the hardness sitting in her eyes, her face was almost unearthly soft.

"Then who are you?" Jon was barely whispering and felt like someone hit him on the chest from the inside when the girl dropped her gaze to his lips for a few moments before returning to his eyes.

"I am Daenerys Targaryen, first of my name," she whispered back, and he could feel her hand next to his thigh. "I am the Mother of Dragons and I just saved your life, Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark."

"How come I am the 'son' and not the 'bastard'?" He was more surprised than he intended, but when Daenerys drew back, only then he realized he was slightly out of breath.

"I learned a long time ago that children shouldn't be punished for the sins of their parents," she rose to her feet slowly, elegantly, like an exotic animal, and Jon just couldn't stop staring at her, wanting to remember every single detail if he couldn't see her again soon. "You are interesting, Jon Snow. I look forward to your recovery."

"I would walk you to your chambers, but..." Jon gestured to himself, and he was fuming that he probably couldn't even stand up, but Daenerys smiled gently at him.

"Just rest. I can assure you no harm will come to me. It is not easy to kill a dragon."

She was already at the door, when the question just ran out of him without thinking.

"You really ride them, my lady?"

Daenerys held her hand on the handle as she turned her head back and smiled brightly, lighting up the whole room and something in Jon's chest as well. His heart, probably.

She never answered, just left him behind, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. :3 I haven't read ASOIAF so I just kinda looked up details for this fanfiction - please, be gentle with me if I screw something up. x3
> 
> I will come with the next chapter soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, only maybe, Jon is faced with the true intentions of the future Queen of Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am shaping the canons and timelines and characters without mercy, and I would like to apologise for that. It was a hard chapter to write, but I fought with power until it was close enough to the one I imagined and hoped.
> 
> Enjoy! :3

Three days passed, before his injuries seemed healed enough to let him get out of bed again. His legs felt weak and he could barely stand at first, but he quickly gathered enough strength to walk around the room a couple of times. Ghost sat next to the bed, watching Jon with tilted head, and Jon could have sworn the wolf looked like he was grinning. Sam was in the room as well, with Master Aemon, although he had no use of the older man when he almost fell a couple times. Sam was there, though.

"How many people did Last Hearth and Karhold send?" Jon asked in a pained voice as he lowered himself to the bed, clutching Sam's arm.

"They said they could spare two hundred armed men to hold the Wall for a while," Master Aemon answered slowly in his shaking, weak voice and Jon just couldn't understand how could he look directly at him if he was blind. "They won't take the Black. Shouldn't it be a problem, Lord Snow?"

"Not while we're at war," the ranger looked up seriously. "Extreme conditions require extreme actions. We need every help we can get."

"But we have the Khaleesi to help us," Sam murmured silently, like he was afraid Jon could actually hear him and he was right to be concerned about that.

"She never said whether or not she will stay or what purpose she is here for at all," Jon raised his voice. "We can't expect her to help us every time we get into trouble."

He hadn't seen Daenerys since the night she visited him and that one time was enough for him to convince himself how bad it would be if she stayed for too long. She was a southerner and she probably didn't come because of the White Walkers. She was in the right place at the right time, that is all. He couldn't ask any more favours of her. She was a Targaryen anyway - there was no surety she wouldn't have all of them killed a week later if it was needed.

Sam didn't keep arguing. He fell silent, disappointed perhaps, and after a moment of hesitation, he excused himself and left the room. Jon felt the slightest of guilt that he yelled at his friend, but Sam had to understand that he couldn't trust everyone so easily, not even if they were extremely attractive. Especially not then.

"You would be a sound Lord Commander, Jon Snow," Master Aemon remarked, but Jon didn't deign to answer. "One many would die for."

The days seemed to pass slower than ever and the only company Jon had was Sam, who brought food and medicines until the ranger could fetch them himself. It was two more days until he was strong enough to leave his room and on his first walk he chose a route through the courtyard where he could see the men training there.

Grenn and Edd were there with the other rangers and some of the unknown soldiers from Last Hearth. Jon was jealous of them that they were fit enough to run around with swords and spears, but he was also shocked to see how untouched the whole castle remained, like there wasn't an invasion of walking corpses just a few days ago. Finally, things could go right just once.

"Look at you, Snow," Grenn called as he lowered his sword. Suddenly, every eye turned to the slowly approaching Jon. "You look like hell."

"Shut up," Jon grinned and let Grenn hug him tightly. It was really nice to see them again, to see them alive, and he considered it lucky that neither of them were dead. He made them come with him beyond the Wall - it would've been his fault if any harm had come to them. Jon felt relief he didn't have to deal with that.

"I don't want to see you half-dead again you idiot," Edd came closer and, once Grenn let Jon go, pulled the ranger into a hug as well. "Fuck the glory and honour, I almost shat meself seein' you there, burnt like a piece of meat."

"He actually passed out once we carried you into your chambers," Grenn noted impishly, but Edd hit him on the shoulder and laughter filled the open space.

"Oi, I didn't!"

Jon couldn't help but laugh with them. They might've been idiots, but they were his family now, and it meant more than anything in a place like the Wall. Sam might've been annoying sometimes and overreacted too often, too happy or too sad, but Jon cared for him like he was his own blood. No one else would've done that and he considered it no burden.

"For the Old Gods and the New, Snow, look at that," Edd put a hand on Jon's shoulder suddenly, waking the ranger from his thoughts. Jon followed his glance and when he saw Daenerys in her dark blue cloak, with her perfectly braided hair, he had to swallow. How on Earth could a girl make him feel like this after two seconds? "No wonder everyone on the Wall is in love with her since she's arrived."

"Just to know who you are talking about," Jon leaned closer to Edd as he took a half step ahead, starting to walk over to her. "She is Daenerys Targaryen."

Edd's face was priceless, but Jon bit back a short laugh and nodded to his friend before walking towards the Khaleesi and her men behind her. He had to talk to her, but strictly about the case of the White Walkers, of course.

"I see you are almost fully recovered, Lord Snow," she stopped in front of him, drinking him in with her eyes. "Your friend took good care of you I presume."

"Samwell Tarly?" he asked, surprised, but she just nodded.

"You were unconscious for two days. He never left your room." She pulled her cloak closer around him, visibly being cold, and despite his better half yelling 'NO' at him, he took a deep breath and gestured towards the castle.

"We can go inside. Southerners are not used to this weather."

"Then return to my chambers with me, would you? I believe we have many things to discuss, my Lord." Her face was serious, but something flashed in her eyes, like she wanted to smile at him and it gave warmth to his frozen bones. Maybe it was the best to just follow her. He nodded.

He hadn't been to the other side of the castle since the attack. It was full of men like the ones following Daenerys everywhere: they had golden skin, dark hair and eyes, and they were tall like giants. They wore thin waistcoats only, like they weren't bothered by the snow and the icy cold at all. He could barely hear them speak, but most of them smiled at him, which was unusual around here. He smiled back anyway.

Jon made mental notes to himself, but never said a word until they reached Daenerys' room. A few golden skinned girls were doing chores around the room, like lighting candles and folding different clothes, but once the Khaleesi stepped into the room they smiled and murmured a few words in a language Jon didn't understand. Daenerys spoke with them in this language too, probably ordering them out, because they left without any further questions and closed the door behind them.

It was only the two of them now.

"Neither my army or my people, the Dothraki have seen snow before," Daenerys said with a half-smile as she removed her cloak and dropped it to the bedsheets. The deep blue dress she wore enhanced her perfect lavender eyes and the way her fair braids fell onto her shoulder made her look majestic like a real Queen. Jon Snow didn't move or speak a word, he just tried to calm his heartbeat down to give him a second in peace. "They enjoy it here."

"And what about you, my Lady?" he asked silently.

"Oh, rest assured that I've seen snow, although it was many years ago," she smiled, but looking into his eyes, she could see that was not what he meant. Daenerys paused for a bit before answering the real question. "I don't plan on staying here for too long, if that is what you mean, my Lord."

"I've never seen anyone crossing the Narrow Sea before," Jon stepped closer, but there was still plenty of space between them. "Why you? Why now?"

"You look too young to say that." The smile on her face was obviously challenging, and after remembering their conversation from a few days earlier, Jon couldn't help but reciprocate the gesture.

He let his head hang with a huff of breath.

"I am a Targaryen, Jon Snow," she turned to him, looking straight into his eyes once he lifted his head. "I came to take back what is rightfully mine."

"The Iron Throne," Jon said slowly and the picture started getting clearer and clearer in his head. "You want to defeat the Seven Kingdoms?"

"No. I want to defeat the Lannisters and everyone else who stands in my way." It was her turn to step closer, her fingertips barely touching the flames of the candles. "I have an army and my men are ready to tear down King's Landing whenever I tell them to. Whenever the time is right. However, it would be safe to have allies here as well. I was hoping you could persuade your brother to join his forces with me. If I'm not mistaken, he is not a threat to the Throne."

Jon felt a small pain in his stomach, buried deep inside, so it was barely noticeable - but it was there, nevertheless, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. So it was all about the game of thrones. Well, they won't pull him into the middle of a war, that is for sure.

"No, he isn't. But, I'm afraid I have more serious concerns at the moment than thinking about who sits on the Iron Throne, my Lady," he stated coldly. "I suppose it wasn't the last attack of the White Walkers. I am sure you can understand my care on the fate of Westeros."

"Did my dragons miss your attention, Lord Snow?"

Her voice was soft, calm, soothing even, and she came closer and closer to the ranger - with every step she took, it was harder for Jon to keep it together. She had such a powerful aura that it almost mesmerized him on the spot, but he had to keep his head clean.

"I am not to leave the Wall to its own resources."

"And what if your 'time is right', my Lady?" he asked silently, keeping his eyes on her without blinking. "What if you leave to battle? You can't expect me to depend on your dragons for the rest of my life, especially when they are not here."

"I already told you," she smiled knowingly. She kept his gaze, not looking away once. "I will not abandon the Wall."

Jon swallowed.

"What do you want with me, then?

"I only need you to answer me this," Daenerys answered slowly, almost silently, in a voice that made him tremble for a second, and he realized he was looking at his reflection in her eyes, she was that close already. "Wouldn't you like to see the heads of the people who killed your father on a stake, Jon Snow?"

Anger made Jon's stomach wrench and it built inside of him slowly, but steadily. He wanted nothing more than to see Joffrey dead, to be overwhelmed by the joy of revenge, to know someone had paid the price. Still, joining a war and battling against Lannisters was foolish when dead people were attacking the only thing that separated the two worlds and Jon knew that very well. He knew what was the priority right now.

"I am a ranger, not a general, my Lady," he muttered. He could feel the breath of the girl on his skin. He had to move only a tiny bit and their noses would touch. "I am grateful for your help and generosity, but I can't fight two battles at the same time."

"I never asked you to," Daenerys smiled knowingly and shook her head only a little. "I just need you to be loyal to me, in exchange for saving your life. Then, I can have revenge, even in your place."

"You don't trust me." It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as a statement, and Daenerys' smile widened.

"This land is unknown to me. I don't know its people, and I've heard more bad news than good ones. I don't know who to trust."

"But of all people, you want to trust me." Jon had no idea where this was going, but he knew anything the Khaleesi would ask of him, he would probably have no chance at rejecting it. He guessed it was her secret power or something like that. "Why did you save me?"

She fell silent and didn't answer for a few moments, just stared at Jon's eyes, like she was trying to read his mind. Then, she took a step back and shrugged, looking not like a majestic queen, but like a little girl, for the first time since Jon met her.

"I've already told you. I find you interesting, Jon Snow."

He tried to solve the expression on Daenerys' face, but there was no use to it and he just sighed deeply before nodding.

"I am at your service anytime you wish, my Lady," he promised with a soft smile, but before he could leave the room, the Khaleesi spoke.

"Jon."

He was surprised she used his first name, but turned back to look in her eyes, curiously.

"Call me Daenerys."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon Snow has an unexpected visitor and nothing is the same afterwards.

Sleeping wasn't easy at the Wall.

It wasn't only hard because of the cold - a good fire could satisfy a man easily. After all, people in the Night's Watch weren't too picky or used to real comfort and luxury. Neither was Jon. But, when one would lie on their bed and couldn't keep their eyes shut for more than a minute, it seemed like everything worked against letting them fall asleep.

The ranger was staring at the ceiling of his chambers while a powerful snowstorm raged outside. The wind kept smashing the heavy rock walls and despite the warm cloak covering him, his limbs felt frozen under the sheets. He put on the fire only like ten minutes ago and it radiated pleasant warmth, but it was far from enough.

He started contemplating the possibility of letting Ghost on the bed for some extra warmth, when a knock on the door broke the short silence between two gusts of wind. Ghost started growling immediately, but Jon only furrowed his brows as he pushed the heavy cloak off him and slowly moved towards the door. He didn't take his sword, after all, if anyone was there to harm him, they wouldn't have started with knocking in the first place, so it must've been Sam or someone from the rangers.

At least, he hoped it would be any of them.

He carefully opened the door, like he was afraid of the things that hid behind it, but when he saw Daenerys Targaryen in front of him, covered in snow, shaking in her thin nightdress, his grip tightened on the edge of the door.

"Daenerys." It was the first time he called her that, but he liked the taste of the word in his mouth. He sounded (and seemed) surprised, though. She didn't.

"I am afraid you were right," she slowly managed to say with chattering teeth. "Us, southerners are not used to these weather conditions."

A half-smile played on her lips as she embraced herself tighter with shaking fingers and Jon couldn't say anything, only stepped aside and let her come inside. He could see how serious the situation was, so he didn't waste a second. It was the first time he touched her, when he directed her to his bed, with hands on her shoulders, and made her sit down. Her skin felt unusually soft under his fingertips and he had to admit he liked it too much. To touch her.

"Wrap yourself in this," Jon ordered as he picked up his cloak from the bed and pulled it over her like a giant, warm blanket. She pulled up her legs so only her face was visible in the abundance of fur, and he couldn't help but laugh at the way she looked like.

"I am flattered you find this situation amusing, Jon Snow," she noted with false resentment. Jon let out a small laugh and knelt to the floor in front of her, petting Ghost absentmindedly with his left hand. "Is he a direwolf?"

The sudden question caught him off-guard, but he nodded.

"His name is Ghost."

"Would he eat my dragons if you let him close to them?"

"I would be more concerned they would set him on fire first."

It was the first time he heard Daenerys laugh, from her heart, and it was a beautiful sound. She had snow white teeth, perfect full lips, and charming wrinkles in the corners of her mouth and eyes as she laughed. He was well aware of his dreamy expression, but he couldn't help himself, not until she stopped laughing and just looked at him with loving eyes. She looked like she was waiting for something.

"You are funny, Jon Snow," she said softly, but Jon didn't let it break him. Yet.

"How come I am still 'Jon Snow' but I have to call you Daenerys?"

"I like it better that way," she pulled the cloak closer around herself and leaned a bit closer, but just a tiny bit. He still had to look up to see her eyes. "Snow means you are pure."

"Snow means I'm a bastard," Jon corrected, but Daenerys shook her head with the same gentle smile on her lips.

"Snow means your soul is clear. That you have taken no actions to be ashamed of. That you have not yet sinned. Snow means you are untouched. You are a virgin."

He felt his blood rushing to his head, but he didn't let the embarassment show on his face. He could've expected it, honestly.

"And you like to remind a boy of his untouched virginity every day by calling him that?" Jon was witty enough to come out of the situation pretty easily, but it didn't matter now. Whatever he said, it didn't matter. It was clear to everyone he has never laid a finger on a woman's body and if the Khaleesi was here to make jokes about it without knowing the reason... So be it. It would only show that she's nothing more than a shallow southerner girl with a couple of dragons. He had pride after all.

"They said you didn't know where to put it, but I honestly doubt that." Her face was unreadable and if he didn't feel bad enough, now he most certainly did. Good to know his fellow brothers were standing next to him and supporting him. "Have you ever been in love, Jon Snow?"

"I took a vow."

"But before that." He already knew she wouldn't let this go. Damn this girl. "Before you came here to wear black and guard the Wall."

He decided to try once more.

"What makes you so interested?"

"Just answer my question," she narrowed her eyes, but it wasn't threatening. She wanted to go somewhere with this and, as much as he didn't mean to, he was becoming curious.

"No," he shook his head after a bit of hesitation. "I haven't been in love, my Lady."

"Neither have I," Daenerys smiled slowly. "I have never known I wanted this until I was thrown into the middle of it. I was like every other little girl. I dreamed of a knight in shining armor, coming to save me and conquer the world with me by his side. I was dreaming of love, Jon Snow."

"Aren't we all?" he sighed and started to stand up to put more wood on the fire, but she grabbed his wrist and made him freeze on that very spot. Her gaze was so intense it almost set him on fire and he couldn't hear his own thoughts from his wild heartbeat. He saw raw lust and desire in her eyes, and he had no idea where they came from so suddenly.

He knew he felt the same, he just didn't want to acknowledge it yet.

"Will you let me stay for the night?" she asked silently, almost like a child, frightened of being rejected, but Jon Snow just swallowed hard and nodded shortly.

"Make yourself comfortable."

He had no idea what had gotten into him. She was the rightful heir of the Iron Throne, she was a southerner from the other side of the world, where he's never been in his life, she was everything he should be suspicious about, and now he just told her to get comfortable in his bed, in the middle of a snowstorm, in a place where anyone could open the door at any moment and see them together.

It was dangerous. And in spite of knowing that, he somehow lost all of his awareness of the matter and he was only concerned about the fire, that it had to be warm enough in the room so she wouldn't get sick.

It was dangerous and ridiculous.

And he didn't mind.

"Are you still cold, my Lady?" he asked gingerly, like he was walking on thin ice and didn't have the courage to turn around just yet. To see her in his bed, under his sheets, and then smelling the flowery scent of her everywhere on his pillow, that wonderful, magical scent she left everywhere she went. This feeling consumed him on the inside, the touch of her on his wrist still burnt his skin and he felt like it was the first time he's ever had a woman over for a night.

Well, it actually was.

Jon was so deep in his thoughts that he needed a few seconds, before he realized Daenerys has never answered his question.

"My Lady?" Jon asked again, and this time he turned around with furrowed brows, but all the concern washed from his face once he saw Daenerys lying in his bed, wrapped in sheets and fur, sleeping.

Half of her face was buried in Jon's pillow, her gentle fingers held the cloak around her safely, and her hair was everywhere around her, like a shining halo. He felt his stomach turning a bit, once the sight had burned itself into his mind, and he started moving closer slowly. There was just enough space next to her on the bed so he could tentatively lie down, careful not to wake her.

In his whole life, he's never been so close to a woman as now. After sensing Jon's presence, she moved closer so their bodies were soon pressed together and she could eventually bury her head in the crook of Jon's neck. He felt every breath Daenerys took - it was soft and burning at the same time, but too fast for a sleeping person. He had put his younger brothers to bed enough times to know when someone was asleep and Daenerys was definitely awake.

She was smart. Really smart.

'She wants to play,' he thought to himself and couldn't help but smile at the way she tried to make herself more comfortable next to him. 'So be it.'

Jon raised his arm slowly to wrap it around her, pulling her even closer. From the corner of his eye he could see a small smile on her face, but she didn't protest, so he gently touched her hair. Oh yes, it really was like touching silk. Even better maybe. He soon reached her face, following the line of her arm and her neck, and when he caressed her cheek and upper lip with his fingertip, she quivered in his arms. Jon could even hear the tiniest of moans a woman could make and it suddenly drove all of his blood in the direction of his lower abdomen.

There was no point in pretending to be asleep anymore, so Daenerys slowly opened her eyes and raised her head enough to look at Jon. So much lust in those violet oceans - that's all Jon saw as his thumb gently wandered on her chin. She had such delicate features he could've just lain there all night and watched her face and never been bored.

They kept staring at each other for a few more moments before a warm smile appeared on her lips and she gently touched Jon's face, full palm on his cheek. He had to close his eyes for a second, and he suddenly felt like he wasn't in this world anymore. Time has slowed down, his heartbeat stopped and all he could hear was Daenerys' breathing. He felt the brush of her lips against his and he was just about to let his guards down absolutely when he felt a cold breeze on his skin and her touch was suddenly gone.

When he opened his eyes, the morning gloom already filled his chambers and he was alone in his bed, still wrapped in his cloak, with Ghost at his feet.

There was no flowery scent on his pillows. Because yes, he checked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's kind of OOC but I couldn't help it and I needed something to keep me warm until we get on with the action. Exciting chapters are coming from now on, also, my favourites.
> 
> And thank you for all the kudos and bookmarks! I really appreciate you, guys - let me know what you think of the story so far! :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam Tarly happens to be wiser than Jon had ever thought, and an unexpected surprise guest joins him on the oncoming ranging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's a little bit shorter than the others, with still not much action but I can promise that we're going there soon. I'm having a terrible sore throat at the moment and I can hardly swallow, so some comments would be appreciated. :3 Enjoy!

It was harder than he imagined.

He was really persistent, though.

After that dream, Jon seemed as if he was under some sort of spell for the next couple of days. He couldn't sleep. He felt knots in his stomach whenever he thought about Daenerys or saw one of her servants. He avoided the western wing of the castle completely. He used bypasses when he could and gave her a wide berth for almost a week. Even Grenn, who usually doesn't notice anything, mentioned that he was acting strangely, but Jon explained it away as exhaustion. No one knew the real reason... For a while.

Right until Sam stopped him in the middle of the stairs one day and didn't let him go.

He kept calm for a few awkward moments, but after neither of them spoke and they just stood there like two idiots, Jon snapped.

"What do you need, Sam?"

"Something happened and you are not talking about it," Sam stated seriously, and Jon was surprised to see hurt on his face, but he just rolled his eyes.

"Nothing happened. Now let me go."

"I'm not letting you go anywhere until you tell me," he stepped even closer to Jon so the ranger had to step down one stair. He so wasn't in the mood for this at the moment.

"There is nothing to tell!" he yelled with irritation. "I have to ride out to the forest tomorrow, Samwell, I am really not in the need of your help besides preparing the horses or well, yeah, letting me go on my way!"

"I am just trying to help!" Sam yelled back defensively, but Jon spread his arms and shook his head violently.

"I don't need it! Now get out of the way!"

He didn't mean to shove him, he just wanted to pass him by. Apparently it didn't work out - Sam slipped on the snowy stairs and, not too elegantly, fell, or, mostly just sat down. Anyway, it must've hurt, because he let out a low, wailing sound that made Jon stop.

He turned around immediately and, for a few seconds, he just stood there, watching Sam sitting on the cold stone stairs. His head hung low and guilt washed over Jon in waves. Sam didn't deserve this from him. He couldn't leave him there just like that. Sam was his brother now and he truly cared for him - Jon couldn't push him away.

Jon sighed heavily and sat down next to him. He looked at Sam apologetically.

"It's about her, isn't it?" Jon was surprised to realize Sam wasn't even angry at him, at least not for shoving him a bit too hard. He was angry because Jon didn't tell him. And somehow it made Jon smile and let his guards down. Who should he tell if not Sam, anyway?

Jon nodded slowly.

"It's about her."

"I knew it," Sam shook his head dramatically, making Jon smile again. "Did you two quarrel?"

"We didn't have the chance yet," Jon released the air from his lungs with a loud sigh. "She's just always on my mind and I feel like it's wrong, you know. She wants to be a Queen, she is a Targaryen, and I'm, well... I am a bastard. A virgin bastard."

"You are an idiot," Sam answered with undisguised honesty. "If you like her just tell her."

"Did you hear me?" Jon turned his head to face Sam, eyes wide like frightened game and brows furrowed in a concerned expression. "She is Queen material, Sam. And I am on the Night's Watch, bound by my vow. It's not that easy. It's not a tale in your books. It's real."

"She seemed really interested in you as well," Sam kept trying. "When you were unconscious, she spent quite a lot of time with you. I was there, too. I saw how she was staring at you, Jon. I tell you, she fancies you."

"She was only interested in me because I was the closest thing to getting her an ally in her upcoming war," Jon stared down at his hands. "I should just forget it all. She will go to battle soon anyway."

"Wouldn't it be romantic, if she took you with her to King's Landing?" Sam grinned like a little girl, despite how Jon frowned at him. "You would rule with her. Imagine your children though, Jon. Your eyes and her hair."

"In the name of the gods, Sam," Jon shook his head in disbelief, before he just stood up and took the stairs to enter the castle.

He didn't want to admit he spent his nights imagining these very things as well. Not even to himself.

 

Jon was up early the next morning. The air was thick with fog and it was unbelievably cold, but at least it wasn't snowing. Yet.

Everyone was preparing to ride out. It had been too quiet, since the first attack of the White Walkers, but there was no way the dragons could kill them all and Jon knew that. He had planned this mission for days now (mostly to engage himself) and he knew the dangers. He couldn't take too many men with him. Someone had to stay at the Wall with the other soldiers, those who didn't wear the Black. It was even more dangerous this way, but he had to take that risk. He had to see the situation beyond the Wall with his own eyes.

Edd and Grenn were obviously coming with Jon. Sam wouldn’t be allowed to come; Jon felt guilty enough about the lad anyway and didn't want him to die out scouting. Sam didn't seem too disappointed, only concerned for Jon.

The ranger entrusted Sam with looking after Daenerys. He hadn't spoken to her for over a week and he didn't know whether she knew they were riding out or not. According to Sam, no one told her about the ranging, so Jon ordered him to see to it.

To say Jon was surprised when he saw Daenerys on the back of her horse in front of the gate was a true understatement.

It seemed like the Khaleesi was very well informed; it was Jon who lacked the news.

"Is she really even more beautiful than she was a week ago or am I still drunk from yesterday?" Edd asked with wide eyes once they noticed Daenerys in Northern riding clothes and furs, talking to one of the rangers with an amused smile. Jon swallowed the mix of anger and worry that built up inside of him in a moment and, without answering the question, he stalked across the courtyard, with the air of a wild animal.

"I am sorry to interrupt you, my Lady, but could we have a word?" he asked as calmly as he could. After a few seconds of a silent staring competition, she dismounted and followed Jon to the other side of the courtyard, where it wasn't so noisy and Jon could hear his own thoughts relatively better.

"What is so urgent, Jon Snow, that you couldn't discuss it with me later?"

She was totally oblivious. And it made him even angrier.

"What made you think you could come with us?" he hissed loud enough that only Daenerys could hear. "Who told you you could come?"

"No one." Her knowing half smile drove him crazy. "I decided to come. I have never been beyond the Wall, and I was bored here. I will not stay here, while you are having adventures out there."

"I wish I could give this marvellous chance to have adventures to someone else, my Lady!" Jon knew very well he was radiating frustration and irritation, but he didn't care. "These creatures are extremely dangerous. They are monsters."

"And, as I noticed, they are extremely flammable as well. It always misses your attention that I own three dragons, Jon Snow."

"I am well aware of your dragons, my Lady, but we have no use of them in the forests, and if they fly too close, these creatures can turn them into living corpses, too!"

She didn't answer right away, but she still smiled and Jon finally noticed that she was closer than she originally was. His heart skipped a beat immediately.

"You assured me that I can trust you," she murmured tenderly. "Now it's my turn to show that you can trust me, too."

"I can't risk your safety," he shook his head willfully. "You asked me to help you get that throne. Now I'm doing it. You can't become Queen if you are one of those monsters."

"I didn't ask you to look after me, Jon." The softness in Daenerys' eyes left him speechless. All he could do was stand there and stare, not even a blink. "I just ask you to accept that I am coming with you."

He knew he couldn't change her mind and they didn't have any more time to argue about it. Jon nodded, even if he didn't like giving in, and walked past the Khaleesi to find his horse.

It was going to be one hell of a ride, that was certain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ranging takes place and disaster follows disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well, I told you action would come soon. There you go!

"Am I the only one who misses Sam's senseless chatter?"

They rode in absolute silence until Grenn spoke, shaking Jon out of his thoughts. His eyes never left Daenerys, who rode in front of him. Luckily, most of the men were behind him, unable to see his staring. His stomach had been in a knot, since they entered the forest, and he wondered where the hell her dragons were. He didn't want to talk to her, so he kept to his thoughts.

"Just admit you would've liked it better if you stayed at the Wall," a ranger named Ray answered and silent laughing filled the quiet forest. Maybe it was even too quiet, Jon couldn't decide.

"Or that you actually like Sam," Edd added, but Grenn snorted with disbelief.

"Which part of him do I like the most, exactly?" he asked uproariously. "His fat head, his sad eyes or his nonexistent sense of humour?"

"Are they always like this?"

Jon almost jumped out of his skin when Daenerys appeared next to him. She came out of thin air, like a ghost, without any warning. He actually felt really stupid for freaking out like this, but he didn’t feel like himself. Everyone knew and, now, Daenerys did too.

"Like what?" he asked, trying to collect the remains of his pride, what little of it was left.

"Making fun of people who can't defend themselves."

She sounded harsh and was loud enough that the others could hear it too. They stopped talking immediately.

"You get used to it after a while," Jon answered casually, as he tried to look anywhere but at Daenerys.

"Well, it's not a thing that I could get used to." Her voice was a little bit angry and it might have been adorable any other day, but her indignation over innocent teasing was the last thing he cared about at this moment. Right now, Jon had a gut feeling and it was a really bad one. "Everyone deserves respect. And Sam is a really nice boy."

"Yeah, sure."

"No, I mean it!" Jon was now positive that the temperature had dropped significantly in the last few minutes, but, apparently, the Khaleesi didn't pay enough attention to her surroundings to notice the change. "He is selfless and a really good partner to have a meaningful conversation with. It looks like no one appreciates him enough."

"Do you always talk so much when you are nervous, my Lady?" he looked at her suddenly with slight irritation in his voice, stopping his horse. Everyone else did the same.

"Why would I be nervous?" Daenerys blinked innocently, but Jon couldn't be fooled. The last time they saw the dragons they were still on the clearing before the woods, but since entering the forest, there was no sign of them.

Jon didn't answer her question. They both knew there would be no use to this meaningless chattering anymore - they had to get out of the forest.

"We need to go back. Now," Jon ordered, as he turned his horse about. He hoped the others wouldn't question him, but they looked at him with palpable doubt and he wanted to yell at them with desperation. "Move!"

"I don't understand," Daenerys said almost inaudibly, trying to swallow back her fear with every ounce of her willpower.

"It seems that your dragons can't enter the woods, my Lady," the ranger answered quickly. "There is no time to explain. We have to leave as fast as we can, and you need to-"

The sudden cry of pain cut him off and, if he had been even a second late, Daenerys would've fallen from her frightened horse. He was fast enough to grab her arm and pull her back and it was then that he saw the arrow in her side. It made him sick to his stomach for a split second, before he regained his sense.

The White Walkers were moving behind them fast. And if they didn't want to die, they had to flee. Quickly.

"Retreat! Back to the Wall, now!"

The hollow trees echoed his yell, louder than it was, and by the time he could pull Daenerys over to his horse and make sure she wouldn't fall off, the others were far away already. He spurred his horse.

Jon Snow couldn't separate his thoughts as the land covered in white blurred from their speed. It wasn’t only his thoughts that he couldn't sort out, but his feelings: the fear, the anger, this burning feeling of deep worry and despair. They all felt like one giant mixture of emotions. The ones he couldn't recognize, they were the worst. Because they weren't part of this mixture: they were individual pieces of his very soul and, although he didn't realize, they gave him the power to push the horse as fast as he could.

He reached the clearing quickly. He hadn't slowed his horse until he was at the opened gate with his brothers. He had no idea how he escaped without any injuries, but he couldn't care about it at the moment.

Only then, he looked down, just to meet Daenerys' tired eyes.

"Don't fall asleep, my Lady," he whispered only for her to hear. She smiled softly.

"I asked you to call me Daenerys."

"Stay with me, Dany," Jon said even softer, as he dismounted from his horse gently, careful not to give her more pain. She seemed satisfied now - she didn't say anything else. Jon could tell she was trying hard to stay awake and he knew he had to be quick. He ordered Grenn to bring the maestro to her chambers where he was taking her and then rushed to her room, not a word to anyone else. He could explain later.

"Jon," she moaned achingly as he put her down on her bed and knelt next to her, still holding her hand, never letting go of it, not even for a second.

"Just stay awake. You will be fine." He couldn't decide whether he was soothing her or himself; probably both. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to look at the wound, he just wanted her to stay awake and keep talking to him. As long as she talked, she was alive.

"Where are my dragons?" she asked hoarsely, looking for Jon's gaze. He could feel she had a fever already, making her skin damp, her eyes more sparkling than ever.

"They will come back to you," Jon reached out to put his hand on her forehead, trying to ease her fever with his cold hands. He started to doubt that there was any blood left in his body after these events at all, he felt so utterly frozen.

"Would you mourn me, if I died now, Jon Snow?" Her voice was weaker with every word, so he tried to squeeze her hand a little bit more; maybe it would keep her awake.

"Don't say things like that, Daenerys. You won't die. Not under my watch."

"I told you not to look after me," Daenerys tried to laugh, but failed and only a sad smile was left on her lips afterwards. "Look where it's gotten me."

"Shut up," he chuckled gently, staring at the sheets instead of her eyes, out of embarrassment, but he didn't have the chance to say anything more because the maestro and three other rangers entered the room.

"What happened? Give me some space, boy."

It was unpleasant to let her hand go, but he had no other choice. Jon slowly stepped back until his heels hit the wall, then he swallowed hard.

"The White Walkers. They shot her. We could barely escape."

"Where are the dragons?" The maestro turned to look at Jon, but the ranger shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Find them," Daenerys whispered and looked up at Jon with teary eyes. She was in pain. "Find my dragons, Jon Snow."

And with that, Jon Snow left the room.

Everything was happening too fast and he still didn't understand half of the things that took place out there. He had no idea where the dragons were or why they didn't come when the White Walkers came. He had no idea why in the name of the Gods didn't they just kill all of the rangers. And, last, but not least, he had no idea how could he find three dragons and make them come with him back to the Wall.

Jon was in his chambers when Master Aemon appeared on his doorstep. The other was apparently in a hurry to catch up with him since he was quite out of breath, but Jon didn't turn around to look at him. He was preparing arrows and his bow.

"Take men with you, Jon."

"I'm going alone," Jon said sharply, putting the arrows to their place. "I won't risk any more lives."

"You are of more use to the Wall alive than dead. You can't act on foolish impulses. You are a Lord Commander now." The old man was serious, but it didn't touch Jon. He had to be quick and get on with it as soon as he could.

"We will all die, if the White Walkers kill the dragons," he turned around to face Aemon and pulled the quiver over his shoulder. "And Daenerys will never be Queen without them."

"And would she like you to die for her?" Master Aemon turned after him as Jon passed him, but the ranger only stopped for a split second, just to answer.

"It's not for me to decide."

Jon Snow was well aware he was riding out on a suicide mission. All alone against who knows how many White Walkers and Wildlings, with only a sword and a few arrows, without a clear destination, he didn't stand a chance. And yet, here he was, riding his horse as fast as he could, with Ghost right after him, and all he could come up with as a reasonable ground for his actions was the wish of a half-unconscious girl.

The perfect example for a ranger: Jon Snow the bastard.

Ready to die for a girl.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daenerys has company and Jon realises that the Khaleesi is willing to do anything for her dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a kind Guest took the time to write me a long comment with all she/he was thinking about the fanfiction, and I replied to her/him immediately. 
> 
> It's only fair if you all know that English is not my native language and I've only written one-shots so far. I know it's not an excuse, but I hope you can understand if I make mistakes in the storyline, in both grammar and style. If I butcher the canon and the timelines it's probably because a) I haven't read the books, and b) it's an extremely difficult fandom with so many storylines and characters that I couldn't possibly make it right everywhere.
> 
> It's my first try, but certainly not the last. I can only hope that the ones of you who now might be frustrated with my mistakes will enjoy the remaining chapters, or my future fanfictions. : )

Daenerys lost count of time. She had no idea how long she had been lying in that bed, the taste of various healing mixtures flavorless in her mouth, her side burning with every breath she took. She tried to sleep, she tried to push herself up to a different position, but neither of them worked. She couldn't sleep because she was worried and angry and she couldn't move because it hurt, more than anything in her entire life.

She wasn't used to staying at the same place for too long. She required space and freedom, but this wound bound her and made her feel naked. All she could do was think and she was sick of it already.

Maester Aemon would sometimes come in to check on her, have a look at her side, put some light green ointment on it that smelled like mint, but he never said anything. Of course, he was talking to her about pointless things like how long she'll have to stay in bed or how serious this injury was, but these things didn't matter to her.

There was only one thing she cared about and he never spoke of that. Her dragons.

She only asked about them once, right after she woke up. Maester Aemon showed constraint, like someone threatened him not to answer any questions on this matter. Daenerys felt way too tired to force it, but she didn't pay attention to him anymore. She wanted to feel them, to feel her only babies in this world, and she couldn't. It made her frightened, but she never let it show on her face. She wanted to be a Queen one day - she could never let anyone know her only weakness.

Not even these people.

She grew to hate the ramblings of that old man by the end of the day, but, by the late hours of the night, the silence started driving her mad. A ranger named Grenn came into her room to put on the fire, but he didn't say a word. He just kept looking at her, when he thought Daenerys didn't see it. She wanted to smile, but she just couldn't. She was too afraid, too afraid that the smile could turn into tears and weeping any moment. So she didn't do anything, just pretended to be asleep.

Of course, she still couldn't sleep.

It was past midnight and still she couldn't hear the dragons. She felt fever rising in her body again and the aching in her side was deepening. She had the milk of the poppy just right beside her on the little table, but she didn't reach for it. She wanted to stay strong and fight this on her own.

Daenerys wasn't sure if the door was really opening or only the fever played tricks with her mind, but the familiar figure of Samwell was coming closer and when he spoke, she could finally tell it was reality. Only a really faint one.

"The Maester asked me to check up on you, my Lady." He was struggling to choke out those words, like he was afraid of her. She smiled at him reassuringly.

"Is Jon back?" Her voice sounded strange and hoarse, almost outlandish. Sam shook his head slowly. He tried to look brave, but Daenerys recognized worry when she saw it. Takes one to know one.

"You have fever, my Lady," he observed and slowly came closer to her. "Should I call for Maester Aemon?"

"Do you think he is still alive?" she asked like he hadn't even spoken at all. "Do you think Jon Snow will come back with my dragons?"

She meant it when she defended Samwell Tarly. He had always been honest with her, even if they only had a short conversation once, but he was a good man and besides Jon, he was the closest person to one she could trust. That she would like to trust.

And if she stared long enough, she could see the honesty in his eyes behind the fear. She liked that the best about him.

"I would like to think that, yes."

Sam gently lowered himself to sit on the edge of her bed and she didn't protest. She was done with silence. She was done with this helplessness.

She wanted her babies back.

"Once you get to know Jon, he is the most trustworthy person ever," Sam said after taking a deep breath and looked into Dany's eyes with his big, sad ones. "He won't come back until he finds them, my Lady."

"What if he dies?"

Her voice was small, like the silent cry of a lost child. Daenerys could never have thought she would end up like this one day.

"You met him, my Lady. He is not the type of ranger who breaks his promises. He sends your dragons back and dies afterwards, if he really has to die."

"How come you have such faith in him?" Every word she said made the wound burn twice as much and something in Sam's voice soothed her, made her sleepier with every second. If she didn’t want to speak much, she could question him, until sleep overtook her.

"After I got here, Jon was the only one who stood up for me. As you can see, I'm not exactly the ranger type," he said, obviously trying to make her feel better. She smiled weakly, keeping her eyes fixed on his face from behind her drooping eyelids. "He protected me. He was my first friend. I trust him with my life, my Lady. He is a great man."

He kept talking, but Daenerys eventually got lost in his words and sank into a pleasant state of not feeling or hearing anything. Her last memory was a faint touch on the back of her hand that felt like a warm palm, then she fell asleep.

At last.

 

 

She dreamt of him.

He was in the middle of a snowstorm. Sword drawn, longer than she remembered, his hair flying everywhere in the strong wind. But it wasn't only snow she saw: it was fire and smoke, and the distant sound of people screaming. Dying. And he just stood there, breathing heavily, looking utterly terrified.

She was closer to him now, and he looked down on her. He still seemed frightened, and she reached out to touch the cuts on his cheek. He was hurt, she could see it in his eyes.

But before she could touch him, she woke up.

And she felt it.

She felt them.

The first few seconds after realizing she felt content were tense. Daenerys lay there, in the same position she fell asleep hours ago, but it was already daylight that filled the room instead of the fire. She was alone, the milk of the poppy was magically gone from the table and she felt happy. Not happy because the burning sensation in her side was gone, not happy because she felt definitely better; happy because she felt content. The hole in her soul was gone. The emptiness was filled.

They were back.

She was out of bed before she could think about it twice. She didn't care about the returning pain or her trembling knees that were still weak under her weight - she wanted to see them with her own eyes.

Daenerys didn't expect to run straight into Jon Snow once she opened the door of her chambers.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was angry, full of disbelief, but Daenerys couldn't react. He was alive and she was happier than she expected. She took a few steps back, so she stood in her chambers again and Jon followed her inside.

"You should be lying in bed!" he continued and she couldn't help but think he was acting like her father. Or her mother. She didn't know which was the worst to imagine, but it quickly ruined the pleasure of seeing him alive.

"I am a Khaleesi and I can do whatever I want. Now let me go, I need to see my dragons," she tried to walk past him, but Jon raised his arm, blocking her way to the door.

"You are not going anywhere."

"Like you can order me about," Dany snorted and shot a sneer at the ranger, but he didn't seem to care. She only noticed the cuts on his face now, just like in her dream, but reaching out to touch them would've been the last thing she wanted to do...

Except maybe in one case.

"I am the closest thing to a Lord Commander here, and since you are at the Wall right now, you have to do as I-"

"Oh in the name of the gods, what is that?"

Daenerys was a perfect pretender and a liar if the circumstances made her act as such. They most certainly did now. She was reaching out for Jon's forehead before the ranger could say a word, and stroked away his hair gently, careful not to touch the wound. It really looked bad; it must've been dangerous where he went to get back her dragons. She will need to properly apologize to him later... If he will talk to her at all.

"You can't win me like that, you know." His voice was softer, but his eyes were absolutely unreadable and, somewhere deep inside, it made her excited. He was like a riddle and she wanted to solve him. More than anything.

She kept gently caressing his skin, where the injury wasn't so deep, and he seemed to ease a little bit under her touch. He never moved back from her - he even leaned a little bit into the touch and it made Daenerys smile.

"I think I don't have to worry about that," she murmured in a low voice, looking deeply into his eyes. She could actually feel his breath on her skin, they were so close, only inches apart. "I've already won you, Jon Snow."

"What makes you think that?" His voice was barely a whisper and he didn't try to hide that he was staring at her lips. She's never needed to restrain herself so badly like now, not in her whole life, and the way his muscles on his forearm tightened under her touch made it even harder to resist.

"I can see it in your eyes," Daenerys breathed and when the tip of their noses met and she felt something like lightning sweeping through her body, she raised her knee.

Right in the target.

Half of her expected him to shove her away and cry out loud, to get hysterical about it. Jon Snow didn't do that. His whole body tensed, he closed his eyes shut and, pressing his hand to his manhood, he leaned against the wall. The only sound he made was a low moan, but she didn't want to wait until she started to feel sorry for him.

Daenerys left the room before she could change her mind and want straight to the stairs. She started regretting her tactics and kept looking back with worry until her room was nowhere in sight.

From that moment, she had only eyes for her dragons.

"My Lady, you should be resting!" she heard Sam's voice from the other side of the courtyard, but she didn't listen. She was staring at the sky, waiting. "Your wound is bleeding again, Khaleesi!"

Daenerys never noticed the blood stain on her nightdress - it must've been new because it most certainly wasn't there when she woke up. Maybe the sudden movements caused the injury to start bleeding again, she didn't know; she only knew that despite the aching and getting dizzy, she had to see her babies.

"My Lady!"

The yelling grew louder around her with every second and the Earth seemed to move way too fast for her eyes. She felt like someone was pulling the ground from under her feet and, just a moment before she lost her balance, she saw them. They cast enormous shadows over the courtyard in the dim sunlight: all three of them.

She lost consciousness with a smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jon. I know it's wasn't really Queen-like, but I couldn't resist my own dumbness. It's pretty OOC as well, so please be gentle with me and don't hate me too much. :'3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon finds something to fight for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is one of my favourite chapters and I really love the way it goes. I hope you will enjoy it as well! :3

"So, how is our friend who got kicked in the balls by the future Queen?"

It has already been 3 days since the "accident," but Jon Snow knew it well enough that even a lifetime wouldn't be enough for him to live it down. Grenn and Edd were informed foremost (Jon had no idea how could they find out so quickly, but they did) and were teasing him in every single moment - frankly, it was driving him mad. Whenever he saw them approaching, he just shoved his sword into Sam's hands in the middle of the training and left, finding something else to do. He could hear them laughing, though. And, of course, Sam scolding them, which made him smile a little bit.

Actually, he had many things to do, so he never got bored. Not officially, maybe, but he was functioning as Lord Commander, since there was no news on the Old Bear, Jeor Mormont. The last group of rangers had never returned to Black Castle from the great ranging and, although Jon still held a tiny amount of hope for his brothers, everyone else was positive they were never going to come back. Since the invasion of the White Walkers, everyone asked him for orders and he fell into the place of the Lord Commander more easily than he expected.

He never complained.

The other main thing he had to care about was the question of Daenerys. Jon Snow tried to separate this business from his own feelings for her, but it wasn't that easy. Because, until he was constantly mocked about her kicking him in the balls and playing him with ease, he had a really hard time closing his mind to the thoughts of her. He almost lost his head for the Khaleesi beyond the Wall and she didn't even ask about it. She didn't care what happened to him out there. She didn't care about him, she only cared about her dragons, and he should've only cared about his job, too. But, as long as she was at Black Castle, it was impossible.

However, Jon had to focus on other things too, which seemed more important, given the circumstances. He received no ravens from the Lannisters, nor his brother on his request for more men, and he started to grow worried. Desperate even. It wasn't like Robb to not react as soon as he could and the invasion took place more than two weeks ago. He wasn't surprised about the Lannisters, though; they weren't the ones to believe these "fairytales" about walking corpses anyway. Unfortunately, it didn't help Jon to defend Westeros and burning the White Walkers off the face of the Earth was his priority at the moment. He could almost smell the next attack in the air and he had this terrible feeling that it is only the beginning. These creatures were resting for a thousand years and, now, they thought they were ready to take the whole of Westeros. They were strong and they weren't to be underestimated. Jon required men to hold back the possible attack, but he also needed the dragons and Daenerys.

He only hoped at least the latter was granted for the moment.

Jon's only hope was, since he didn't trust the Greyjoys and other houses weren't too likely to help, to send a raven to Stannis Baratheon. Word spread fast in the realms and Jon had heard of the Red Woman, believed to be a witch by many. She was the last thing he could pray for, despite the warnings of Maester Aemon. He already said and now repeated, extreme conditions require extreme actions.

Taking the leading position, however, had its disadvantages as well. Jon had to experience them soon after taking the post and before he could start making important decisions. Images of White Walkers, Wildlings, and dragons beyond control infested his mind and made it impossible for him to sleep. He was twisting and turning in his bed. He was too tired to sleep. He felt dizzy, he felt cold, and he felt hot all at once. He needed fresh air. And, it didn't take too long to convince himself.

After a few seconds, Jon Snow was under the open sky and standing on the last stair before the courtyard. He watched his breath float in the air for a moment, before it disappeared. The snow was drifting slowly and Jon felt better, as he inhaled the biting cold air into his lungs. It cleared his mind and refreshed his body and soul.

He felt so content in that moment that he didn't even notice the three pairs of eyes watching him from the other side of the courtyard. A pair of smoldering red, another pair of molten gold, and a third pair of bronze. Even in the dark of the night and the dim light of the torches, they shone through the murk and soon enough they drew his attention with their low, quiet buzzing voices.

Jon's stomach knotted in seconds and he froze where he stood. He knew he should've left as soon as he recognized the dragons, but he just couldn't.

Jon Snow never was the one to run, after all.

He tentatively took a few steps forward. Nothing seemed to change and he moved carefully, with his beating heart trying to break through his chest. The dragons were already bigger in size than when Daenerys arrived with them and they were more and more frightening with each day. The one with the red eyes, that was the biggest and the most aggressive.

That one had attacked him, when Jon came to rescue them only days ago. And he seemed to remember Jon because he wasn't happy to see him. Not at all.

Jon could see their bodies too; he was that close now. As he approached, the dragons sprung back inch by inch. Only when there was a foot or two between him and the dragons did he reach his arm out slowly. The dragons with the bronze and golden eyes were curious and moved eagerly to push their heads into his palm, but the one with the red eyes made threatening noises. Jon moved to pull his arm back, when a warm circle of fingers appeared on his wrist and held his hand there.

Jon Snow tensed, but didn't pull away. He knew that touch. Oh, of course he knew. How many times had he dreamt with that touch, with that flowery scent, with that hot breath on his skin... Every day now, for weeks. And it was unmistakable.

"They can sense your fear, Jon Snow," she whispered into his ear. He had to force himself to not close his eyes, to not give himself over to this feeling. "You have to trust them."

"How could I trust something so dangerous?" he choked out, his voice slightly trembling.

"As you trusted me."

Jon wanted to argue, but, at the same time, he didn't. He let her fingers stroke his skin right over the spot where his blood was pumping in his veins; he let her chin rest on his shoulder. The red eyed dragon still looked angry, but when he saw the others leaning into Jon's touch, he slowly let the ranger touch him, too. He saw an enemy in Jon and he couldn't understand it. He wanted to understand.

"He hates me," Jon noted softly and he could feel her smile right next to his neck.

"He doesn't think you are someone to be trusted."

"Do they have names?" He didn't know what led him to ask, but it came out of his mouth before he could think twice. The dragon turned his head in his palm, becoming familiar with Jon's touch and less tense in his presence.

"The one on the left is Rhaegal and the one on the right is Viserion. They are named after my brothers," she explained, barely murmuring into Jon's ears. He felt goosebumps all over his body. "Your new friend's name is Drogon. He wears the name of my former husband, Khal Drogo."

He stayed silent. Daenerys never spoke of when she became Khaleesi, never said anything of her husband, never discussed how or why she crossed the Narrow Sea. She was an enigma, a mystery, and even if he didn't know anything about her, he wanted her for himself. All of her.

"I came to apologize. For what I've done to you the other day."

The suddenness her voice changed with was unusual, but they still stood the same and Drogon still rested his head in Jon's hand.

"I was a fool to ever stand in your way. Believe me, I won't make that mistake again."

Despite all the mocking and teasing he had swallowed without a word for three days, now, he was smiling. He was smiling like a fool in love. Like a green boy. And maybe, he was. Jon Snow, the bastard of Eddard Stark, in love with a future Queen. He should write a poem about it.

"I am still recovering and I slowed the process down for myself," she continued, but Jon could hear the smile in her voice. "I've never meant to hurt you. I was just worried. Like a mother can be worried for her children."

"These children are not easy to save, I have to give them that," Jon sighed, but his thoughts were far away. He remembered that moment when she came so close; when they actually touched; when he felt like she was staring into his soul; when she could read his mind, even without her knowing it; when he was an open book before her.

All he had to do was to turn his head to the side and they would have been there all over again.

"You bled for them, Jon Snow."

The way she let go of his wrist and put her hand on his cheek was so soft he almost melted under her touch and he could no longer restrain himself. He turned his head to look her in the eyes and was surprised when he realized how much closer they actually were than he had expected. Her fingers brushed against his cheekbones, his eyelashes, his forehead, then rested over the bruise she had touched before. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips and he didn't want to. She was too close for that.

"I just wanted to thank you," she breathed against his mouth. It took every ounce of willpower to stop himself from trembling with the desire that consumed him. Her fingers gently ran through his hair, only stopping when her hand reached the back of his head, where she stopped and drew lazy circles on the nape of his neck.

Jon wanted to ask if she planned to hurt him again like the last time, but his throat felt too dry to speak. His eyes closed as their lips brushed against each other, chastely uniting in a slow kiss. He stopped breathing and couldn't control his arms when they gently snaked around her waist. He turned to her, pressing his chest to her breasts, letting her pull his head lower, deepening the kiss.

It was an extraordinary feeling that washed over Jon. He had kissed women before and women had kissed him, but never like this. The way it grew more and more passionate, the way their tongues met and started their dance for dominance, it was something brand new for Jon Snow. He never wanted it to end. He caught himself holding her more tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh on her hips, as she pulled his hair after he bit on her lower lip with a deep moan.

Jon ran out of air first and opened his eyes just to meet her lust heated ones. Her lips were slightly swollen from his bites and he could've sworn her whole face was glowing. She was more beautiful than ever.

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure he had to say anything at all. Everything was written on his face, in the splendour of his eyes. Yet, there was the tiniest bit of doubt in her gaze, right behind the desire, where she thought Jon would never find it. That maybe, just maybe, they were doing the wrong thing here. That it was a mistake. And he had to convince them both that that wasn't the case.

"You were right, your Grace," his voice barely a whisper. "You won me the moment you entered my chambers on that night."

It was all she needed to hear.

 

Making love to her was like dreaming of the South again.

Being somewhere that he's never been before, feeling things he could've never dreamt of, being touched in places that he hasn't even known of - it was all like a different world. And he entered it, embraced it, and never wanted to let go of it ever again.

Until that night, Jon Snow kept these secret images of her only in his mind, but his imagination was a bare shadow of reality. Daenerys Targaryen wasn't only the most beautiful and wittiest woman he had ever seen, but she meant the whole world to him in the moment their unclothed bodies intertwined. She became the part of him he had been missing, the person who was worth waiting for. With every touch she marked his body, with every moan she whispered 'mine, mine, you are mine'. Every tender kiss, every sigh, every tremble drove him farther from reality, made him feel like the sun was burning his skin, but it was only her.

The fire did not melt the ice. They merely merged into one.

"I've never asked how you saved my dragons."

These were the first words after hours and hours of long, comfortable silence. And yes, it was comfortable because, for once in his life, he didn't feel the urge to break it. He felt happy just by lying there, with Daenerys curled to his side, leaving transparent patterns on her skin just over her shoulder blade.

Jon took a deep breath, hanging in the whist for a few more moments before closing his eyes slowly.

"I had to breathe fire," he stated seriously, but eventually started smiling as he felt her chin on his chest. He could feel her frown, although she didn't say a word. She didn't have to.

"You are impossible."

"They were captured by a group of Wildlings," Jon admitted and opened his eyes to look at Dany.

She was still too beautiful, especially with that thoughtfulness in her eyes, and he still couldn't believe they were together in her bed. A part of him feared he might wake up and it would turn out to be only a dream, but her touch on his side, her hair tickling his stomach, and her violet eyes staring up at him were too real to be the tricks of his mind.

"You could have died and you still went out there alone." She shook her head and smiled gently, making his heart skip a beat. He was getting used to it. "You are crazy, Jon Snow."

"My father is dead, I can't fight for him," he shrugged with eyes staring into nothingness. "I can't fight for my brother Robb because my vow binds me here. I can't go to find Sansa and Arya, also because of my vow. I don't know what happened to Winterfell, because they have never sent a raven back. If I die... That is all fine, other bastards died at the Wall, too. But, as long as I can breathe, I need to fight for someone. And I chose you, Daenerys."

Her eyes were unreadable, but Jon could feel her hand shaking by his side. She let nothing show on her face, but she couldn't fight every emotion, and Jon knew that well. He started to understand her, and he just realized that now. And he was happy about it. She wasn't that difficult after all.

Jon didn't expect her to answer and Daenerys only had to look at his face to see that. She wasn't able to form coherent words anyway and the ranger didn't need it. The softest of smiles formed on his lips, like a quiet promise he never really talked about, and Dany could only push herself up to seal this pledge with a kiss.

The distant memories of Khal Drogo, for the first time, finally, became truly distant.


End file.
